HALO: Argos
by Not Another One
Summary: A prequel to the HALO series, set in 2356. On an exploration mission to the planet Argos, the C.A.C. Nova Scotia makes discoveries that will change humanity forever. Rated T for safety. Probably non-canon in future chapters.
1. Double Attractions

**Chapter 1: Double Attractions (and Neither One is Mine)**

_March 20, 2356. C.A.C. _Nova Scotia.

"It's amazing," Rick said.

"Yeah, fabulous," I deadpanned.

"Beautiful."

"Gorgeous. Stop staring."

"I'm not staring."

"Gawking."

"I'm not!"

"Gazing. Eyeing. Dropping your jaw at. It's almost pitiful, really."

"But you can't deny this will be fun to use."

I sighed. "True."

Rick Allen and I stood in Hangar Bay Delta of the Canadian Aircraft Carrier _Nova Scotia_. Before I go any further, I should probably explain what's going on. By _aircraft carrier_, I don't mean a boat – this was a top-of-the-line space-faring vessel, the finest of its kind. After all, this was the year 2356, not the twenty-first century anymore. It held the majority of the in-atmosphere vehicles used on missions such as this one, as well as the space fighter craft.

My name's Alvin. Alvin Handells, Private First Class, 5th Recon Company, 56th Special Battalion. Twenty-three years old and finally on deployment. After completing boot camp, I had had to wait in reserve for a year while the _Nova Scotia_ was being outfitted for this exploration trip. That was when I picked up reconnaissance training. Making the choice was equal parts boredom and opportunity – recon troops were the first group sent down to the surface of a new planet, and I was always happy to be the first to do something. So here I was. Doing something.

Anyway, the C.A.C. _Nova Scotia_ was currently in the Andromeda Cluster on an exploration mission for the UNSC. It was routine stuff – there were probably at least dozen other exploration forces out somewhere in the ether. Of course, we were escorted by a Canadian Galactic Battleship – the C.G.B. _Anchorage_. They were originally called Canadian Armored Cruisers, but the confusion over the C.A.C. and the C.A.C. led to a name change and a costly repainting job on the first line of battleships. There's military bureaucracy for you.

Back to Rick's new attraction. The object of Rick's affection was the Buzzard. The brand new A5R Buzzard was a gunship, a troop carrier designed for use in the middle of battle. Four rotating turbines – two mounted on the bottom, two on the roof – were attached to the aft of the Buzzard. Underneath the bubble cockpit, mounted eight feet above the ground, the frame caved in to accommodate a double Gatling gun. The open cargo bay showcased the eight passenger seats and two Gatling-equipped gunner's chairs. A pair of gleaming missile tubes mounted on the top finished off the dark green monster.

Rick, being Rick, loved big beefy ships like this one. He was a gunship pilot, born and bred. I was a recon trooper, a different breed of soldier – although I did enjoy flying ships like the A2X Skyhawk, a two-seater patrol fighter. We recon troopers were the front line of the exploration force, and this was my first mission. Rick's too.

"So, Rick, you think that you're gonna fly this thing?"

"Of course. I'm the best gunship pilot there is." He was exaggerating a bit, yeah, but he was pretty good. He had graduated from flight school at the top of his class, while I was working on recon training.

A calm female voice sounded over the _Nova Scotia_'s PA system. _"Leaving slipspace in five, four, three, two, one…"_

Even though we couldn't feel the ship's motion through slipspace, we felt the jolt as the _Nova Scotia_ left it. We had been travelling in slipspace for the last two days. Slipspace technology had made these exploration missions possible – the _Nova Scotia_ had two drives that opened a portal into an alternate dimension, allowing us to travel several times the speed of light.

_"Opening bay doors,"_ said the voice. Everyone in the hangar watched the giant doors at each end of the hangar unlock and begin to open. The bay shields would keep the hangar from depressurizing. Out the starboard side, in the expanse of space, we could see a large rusty-red planet – our target.

The PA crackled once again, this time with the deep voice of Rear Admiral Armand Montel. "This is Montel. We have arrived at our destination. The _Nova Scotia_ will make one orbit around the planet before we send down the first expeditionary force. We expect this will take about nine days. In this time, you will all undergo final preparations for landing. Montel out." The buzzing of the PA died out. The various personnel in the hangar returned to their work. Rick and I headed for the exit; it was almost 1800 hours Earth time, and we wanted to make it back to our barracks before first shift dinner.

Our barracks were on E deck, a level above the hangar entrances. We took the lift and quickly made our way to the E-12 barracks. Even though Rick was a pilot and I was a "recon jock", we were both in 56th Special Battalion, and we managed to get put together in the same fifty-bed barracks. I swiped my key card and we both entered.

My staff sergeant, Harry Lester, was there, posting two sheets of paper on each of the bunk beds. Even though Rick was 3rd Aerial Company and I was in fifth recon, Sarge might as well have been Rick's officer as well. I offered a "Hey, Sarge" as we passed him, and he waved back at us absentmindedly in response. Rick took his paper off of our bunk and handed me mine.

"Schedule for the next three days," he said as I glanced over mine quickly. "Looks like we got some serious stuff. Flight simulators for pilots – hope that's the Buzzard – battle sims on the _Anchorage_, too. What do they think we're gonna run into – aliens?"

I laughed. "Don't mock the conspiracies, man, we're not alone."

"Right, Al. Crackpots are people too, yes sir."

"Don't get cocky, Corporal Allen," I said. "What else is there? Let's see…briefings, more briefings…hey, look!"

"What?" Rick studied the sheet to find what I was so excited about.

"Briefings."

"Whoop-de-stinking-do. Let's get some dinner."

* * *

><p><em>Dinner<em>, in my opinion, was an optimistic view of what awaited us in the mess hall. The mess hall was aptly named – not for the room itself, which was nice and clean and gray. Gray walls, gray ceiling, gray floor, gray tables, and men in gray fatigues eating it. No, the name could fit either the food or the cooks; their somewhat white food-stained aprons and five o'clock shadows properly fit the definition of _mess_.

Rick and I grabbed our trays of mediocre nourishment and found a table. After a few bites, Rick pointed at something behind me. I turned and looked. It was the _other_ object of Rick's affection – Shana Bayes, Corporal, in the fifty-sixth like us. She had brown hair, glowing brown eyes, and a higher rank than me, although Rick was also a corporal. When you're a recon jock and your corporal is a pilot, rank doesn't really matter. Unless you're a rear admiral or something important. It didn't practically mean squat for the pilots anyway, except as a sign of their skill and/or experience, or their connections. Seeing as Shana was a recon jock too – or _jockette_, as some guys would call them – her rank did matter to me.

"I don't know what you're thinking about, Slick," I laughed, "but it sure as heck can't be a dinner date. Not here. Not now. Not with her."

"I can dream, can't I?" Rick's eyes were still focused on the beautiful brunette.

"Keep those dreams on the inside – they're showing on your face." I snapped my fingers in his face, bringing him out of his reverie.

Me? I wasn't interested. Nothing against her – I just wasn't in the mood for romance on board the _Nova Scotia_. I would rather wait until getting back from this deployment, sometime in the next year, to worry about stuff like that. One thing at a time.

Rick wiped his mouth and started to stand, eyes still straight ahead. I knew what he was going to do. I turned around to see Shana standing up, her back now turned to us. I grabbed Rick's arm to stop him from making his move. "Did that food somehow get you drunk?" I asked. "You're crazy."

"Yes, Alvin, I am. Crazy, not drunk."

"You don't want to see what she'll do when you ask her."

"Well…"

"She can use a gun."

Rick grinned. "Me too. Something we have in common."

I pulled him back down again, trying not to laugh. "You're not going to make a fool of yourself. Hold off, tiger."

Rick sighed wistfully as he sat down, then laughed. "I just wanted to see what you would do, Al," he said.

"Nothing, Rick, nothing at all. She would do it all for me."

I glanced over my shoulder. Shana was nowhere to be seen. Coast clear.

Rick stood up again. "Okay, I'm off to the barracks for a while." Since the _Nova Scotia_ was fully crewed by navy men – called Limies by Marines like us – we normal soldiers had almost no duties during the day. That would change tomorrow, with the new schedules coming into effect.

"Rick," I asked, "what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Flight sims and briefings," he replied. "What do you have?"

"No idea," I said, scratching my neck. "When do we ship off to the _Anchorage_ for battle sims?"

"Day after tomorrow, I think. That'll be fun. I'm gonna go. Later."

I nodded as he left, taking another bite of my food. I had barely eaten anything so far; not like I was eager to taste the rations, but I had to eat something. Stirring the grayish clumps together with my fork, I thought about tomorrow. I probably had briefings, unfortunately; but there was a slim chance that I had none.

_Yeah. Like there's a chance Shana will ask for Rick's hand in marriage._

I laughed to myself and pushed thoughts of Rick and rejection out of my mind. I had stuff to eat.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading. Please review if you want me to continue.<em>


	2. Hey Shana

**Chapter 2: Hey Shana**

_March 21, 2356. C.A.C. _Nova Scotia.

"Morning," said Rick as I sat down at his table in the mess hall at 0900, freshly showered. I enjoyed not having duties to fulfill – that wouldn't be the case if we weren't stationed on the _Nova Scotia_. The 56th Special Battalion was mostly comprised of pilots and specialists like the recon troopers. Stationed on the _Anchorage_ was the 33rd Battalion, a mix of soldiers and pilots from the Army. Compared to them, I was living the dream life on board the _Nova Scotia_. My only duties were occasionally cleaning the latrines and making sure my stuff was in order.

Today would be different. I couldn't remember exactly what was planned for us today, but it was something different. I would have to check the schedule.

"You got flight sims today, Rick?" I asked as I took a bite.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at the clock. "In about an hour. What about you?"

"I don't know, I need to check the schedule." I took a drink out of my gray plastic cup. What they put in these cups for us to drink, I didn't know, and didn't care to find out. It had more or less the consistency of water, and more or less the taste of water, but I couldn't help think that this wasn't fully water. But I hadn't gotten sick so far on this trip, so I guessed that the liquid wasn't dangerous to my health.

After eating silently for ten minutes or so, I stood up and picked up my tray and cup. "I'm gonna head back to see what my job is today," I said.

Rick nodded, his mouth full of food. "Later," he mumbled through it.

I put my tray and cup on the cleaner's rack and left for the barracks. I ran my finger down the schedule until I found the next item on the list.

"Crap."

I sprinted into the training room four minutes later, quickly counting the other people in the room. If I was right, forty-seven men were already there; this was the 5th Recon Company of the fifty-sixth. Now that I was here, only two people were missing – the corporal and the staff sergeant. Lester had to be around here somewhere…

So it had turned out that I had endurance training. At 0915. I was relieved that Lester hadn't seen me run into the room with about ten seconds to go.

"Hey, _amigo_," said an accented voice behind me. I turned to see Victor Herrera, another recon jock. He was about five years older than me, and this was his second deployment. He probably already knew what exactly the endurance course entailed. Victor was Spanish, not Mexican, as evidenced by his accent and his constant reminders to others that he was European. He did have that European look – Caucasian, black hair, thinner features. The other recon troops and I still joked about it sometimes.

"You sleep in too much, _Alito_?" _Alito_ was his name for me – "little Al." Seeing as he had five years of experience compared to my zero, I guess he had a right to call me that.

"What was that, Victor? I can't understand Mexican," I replied.

Victor laughed. "Why do I even bother reminding you?" he asked. "I'm Spanish. I'm not even from your continent."

Booted footsteps approaching from behind interrupted our conversation. The fifth quickly formed up ranks as someone entered the room. I already knew who it was.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Sarge began. "I hope you all had a nice sleep, because you'll need to put that energy to good use on the endurance course." He pointed to a door on the far wall. "The course is through there. I will send you in, two at a time, thirty seconds apart. If someone falls off, everyone starts over. Any questions?"

Without waiting for an answer, Sarge raised a whistle to his lips and blew. "Go!"

Two soldiers ran for the door before the rest of us knew what was going on. We quickly formed a line. Victor and I tried to get in near the back, but we somehow ended up at the front, behind only one other pair. This wasn't good. If we were near the back, and someone messed up, we probably would end up only doing the course once. Now, even if we finished fine, we would have to cross our fingers and hope that no one else ruined the day for us.

A minute later, it was our turn. As the whistle blew, we sprinted for the door. I opened it to find myself in the endurance course. From what I could tell, the course went forward, curved to the left, curved left again and went _up_, and curved left twice more before starting to go down.

First were the tires on the ground. Victor and I knew what to do here – simply step through the tires. This drill had been used for centuries. But we had to go fast, and not slip up, or else Sarge would make us go through the course again. That would be embarrassing – failing on the first obstacle. Victor and I nodded to each other and started high stepping through the tires, going as fast as possible without tripping. We made it through just as the door burst open behind us and the next group entered the room.

I looked up as we finished the tires. A camera watched our every more. Doubtless, someone was watching us for mistakes.

Next were the monkey bars. Pretty simple – we just had to keep enough momentum to swing. These were slightly different though – each bar was about half a foot long, shorter than regulation monkey bars. The bars also curved left as they went along.

No problem. I went first, swinging my body forward on the first bar, then back, then reaching out for the next bar on my next swing. I advanced pretty quickly until the bars started to curve. I reached out for a bar and felt my hand slipping off. I dangled for a second from one hand as I reached up to grab my bar with both hands. _Soaked in water. Not fair,_ I thought. That's the Marines for you.

"The bars are slippery up here!" I called back to Victor, who was still on the first few bars. "Be careful!" I swung a few times to regain momentum and tried again. My hands nearly lost their grip again, but I was successful. I lost my momentum as I prepared for the next bar.

_There's got to be an easier way_, I thought. I reached out one hand to the pipes that made up the frame. They were still dry. I knew this could get me disqualified, but it was a better way to do so than falling several feet. At least I would know if it was legal.

_Forget legal_, I thought, and grabbed the two curved pipes with both hands. I shuffled my hands back and forth as I moved forward, a little faster than before. Soon I had reached the end platform and dropped down. "Victor, do what I just did," I called back. He was already trying it, getting closer. Within a few seconds, he dropped down next to me. "_Gracias_," he said, grinning.

It looked like the next little bit would be a ropes course. No sweat. Victor and I quickly walked through the first part, a set of wooden platforms connected by ropes. Left turn again. Here was the ascent – two parallel ropes, sloped upwards, one positioned about seven feet above the other. That was it. This would require balance and strength. I grabbed the top rope with both hands and gingerly put one boot on the bottom rope, followed by the second. I started pulling myself up, trying not to chafe my hands on the rope. At the top, I awkwardly brought my feet up to the platform and let go of the rope. Victor was already halfway up, and he reached the top almost as quickly as I had.

The ropes course took up the rest of the endurance test. Victor and I caught up to the group in front of us pretty quickly, and soon had to wait for both groups ahead of us before completing the next section. Finally, after what felt like half an hour, we finished.

I stepped off of the final platform, soon followed by Victor. We were now in a waiting area with chairs, and we each plopped down in one. "That wasn't too hard, now was it, Victor?" I asked, grinning. It actually wasn't that hard. Boot camp had been much harder. I wondered what the higher-ups were playing at.

"The course wasn't designed to test your endurance so much as your speed," said a female voice. We looked up to see none other than Shana Bayes standing there with a plastic electronic clipboard. "Adding up your individual times on each obstacle, Private Handells, you have the best time today. Eleven minutes, thirty-four seconds. Private Herrera, yours is second. Eleven minutes, forty-one seconds."

"Call me Alvin," I said before I could stop myself. Shana raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am," I stated quickly.

"Very well, Alvin," she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Victor's grin was a little more pronounced. He chuckled as she walked back to her station, where several video screens were placed in a semicircle. _Probably the camera feeds_, I thought.

"If you insist, Alvin, dearest," joked Victor. "You're one smooth operator, _Alito_."

We watched as several more pairs of soldiers made it through the course. From what I could tell, our times remained the best of the day.

"That wasn't even that hard," I said as another pair left the course. "I wonder if—"

My sentence was cut short by a loud buzzer. I heard a voice through a megaphone that could only be Sarge. "That was unacceptable, Private! Boys, looks like we've got free tickets for another ride."

I groaned inwardly as we stood up and headed for the door. Never groan on the outside – that just tells the officers that your current work is too easy.

_Semper fidelis_, I thought as we walked back to begin round two. Sure thing.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 3 should be in tomorrow morning (531/11). I'm going to France for several days, so no more updates until probably next weekend (6/11/11). Reviews are appreciated – and they can take like ten seconds._


	3. All Aboard the Anchorage

**Chapter 3: All Aboard the **_**Anchorage**_

_March 21, 2356. C.A.C. _Nova Scotia.

Nighttime – more or less. Night was really a figurative term when it came to space. Going by Earth time, it was definitely night – 2130, standard time. But seeing as it was always night…thinking about this stuff gave me a headache. Never mind.

I climbed into the lower bunk of our bunk bed as Rick climbed up to the top. Seniority had its privileges, so Rick got the top, but I really didn't mind. I preferred the ground anyway. Rick was a pilot, and also a little crazy – both by choice. He probably felt like he was flying or something, I don't know. I tended to ramble when I was tired.

After the obstacle course was finally completed – no one dared to mess up a second time – the day had gotten progressively more boring. I had been right about the briefings – we had three separate hour-long meetings that covered stuff that everyone already knew, or should have known. In between the meetings were a required workout and a video on hangar safety protocol, of all things. And finally, to top it off, a late dinner. What a wonderful day.

Rick had told me about the flight sims when I got back to barracks. He had been right – they were flying the Buzzards, and he said they were great, if the sims were anything like the real machine. Other than that, he'd had the same problem I had all day – briefings and more briefings.

But finally, here we were, ready to sleep. I was somewhat happy because, as far as we all knew, the briefings were mostly over. Tomorrow we were being shipped to the _Anchorage_ for weapons exercises. I heard about what we would do from people like Victor who had done this before. There would be range practice – something I enjoyed – and simulated firefights. I was looking forward to it.

"Lights out!" came Sarge's voice, soon followed by total darkness. Any marine who wasn't in bed by now would be hard-pressed to find it in the pitch-black room. I closed my eyes in preparation of a good night's sleep. My body was certainly ready for one, and I knew I would need it.

"Alvin," came a voice out of the darkness. It was deep and stereotypically masculine. There were maybe five women in my company, including Shana – it was predominantly male, like most companies, and most of the men in E-12 Barracks were from the fifth.

The voice was still distinguishable from the rest; it was Peter Wellington, usually known as Pete. He was from a curious blend of Australian and North African descent, giving him a unique accent. His paternal grandparents, owners of a mining company, had moved to Mars before Pete's dad was even born. Pete's mother had been second generation Martian. The influence of New Zealand, Morocco, and Mars on his genome resulted in a seven-foot-tall, dark-brown-skinned muscle mass that currently lay on the top bunk across from me on the aisle. "Yeah, what is it Pete?" I replied.

"Nice job on the course t'day."

"Thanks, Pete. You too."

"I saw your interaction with the corp'ral. I b'lieve she's interested."

I really, _really_ hoped that Rick was asleep. I hadn't told him about my short conversation with Shana. No need to get him excited. Or make him ask for an introduction. "Don't worry about it, Pete, it's nothing. Really."

"If you say so. 'Night."

I closed my eyes once more, hoping to experience eight hours of blissful unconsciousness. I got my wish.

* * *

><p><em>March 22, 2356. C.A.C <em>Nova Scotia.

"Last call! Third, fifth, sixth, eighth, and ninth companies, board up!"

Rick and I found the last two empty seats on board one of the shuttles in the hangar. So far, it looked like Rick had been asleep before Rick was in the 3rd Aerial Company, one of ten aerial companies in the fifty-sixth. There were a total of thirty companies, ten of which were recon like mine. The remaining ten were specialist groups such as battle engineers and other classes.

It was finally time to head out to the Anchorage. After a few minutes of tense waiting, the doors finally closed, and we felt the smooth rumble of the shuttle engines firing up. This shuttle, one of the five in HB Delta, lifted off of the deck and cruised through the open bay doors into space.

Space. Nothing like it, really. The windows of the shuttles provided plenty of space for us to see the _Anchorage_, looming out of the white-speckled darkness. I've always felt empty in space, but it was a comforting emptiness. I can't explain it. Don't make me get philosophical.

I watched the _Anchorage_ float through space. The UNSC exploration forces went in groups of two: the battleship and the carrier. But when I looked out, at least five other gray ships floated in the void with it. _Where'd they come from?_

I nudged Rick and pointed out the window. "Do you know what those are?"

Rick stared. "I thought we just had the _Nova Scotia_ and the _Anchorage_. I have no clue what they're doing here." He stood up and walked to the front. As he approached Sarge, I stared out the window again. They didn't look like war vessels – they looked more like personnel transports used in-atmosphere on Earth, just on a larger scale. I didn't know what they were for, but I intended to find out.

Rick came back and sat down. "Sarge doesn't know either. He says that he'll pass the question up the chain." Even though Rick was in the third company, he lived and breathed like a member of the fifth. My Sarge was his Sarge.

I wasn't too concerned – I figured that we'd find out what they were eventually. It's not like the ships were hiding from us, so they weren't secret. Still, it nagged at the back of my mind as the shuttle drew closer to one of the _Anchorage_'s hangars.

The large bay doors opened as the shuttle approached to within one hundred meters of the battleship. We passed the bay shields and came to a soft stop on the hangar floor. Waiting a few meters away from the shuttle was a bearded man in a crisp green uniform. I guessed that he was a captain, judging by the insignia on his shoulder.

The doors opened. Rick and I stepped out onto the cool gray floor. The rest of the occupants followed, spreading out around the captain. When everyone was assembled, he cleared his throat and spoke with a slight Southern accent.

"My name is Captain Bill Murphy. I will be in charge of the first six companies of the 56th Special Battalion during your time on the _Anchorage_. Sergeant Lester," he said, turning to Sarge, "take your men to the firing range."

"Yes sir." Sarge saluted and turned to us. "Fall out!" The fifth recon company followed Sarge as he headed towards one of the exits. Another shuttle passed through the shields and landed near out shuttle. As men and women began pouring out of that shuttle, Rick tapped me on the shoulder. "That's my company, Al. See you later." He slipped away to the incoming shuttle as the fifth continued out of the hangar bay.

After walking through various corridors for a few minutes, we took a lift down to our destination: the shooting range. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all reinforced so that stray bullets wouldn't cause any damage to the ship. There were one hundred shooting stations, each with two hundred yards' worth of targets. I was impressed that they could fit this much into the ship. The _Anchorage_ was somewhere around 800 feet long – one of the largest ships in the UNSC fleet – but this range must have taken up almost an entire level.

We followed Sarge to the adjacent armory, where a grizzled-looking gunnery sergeant waited. After introducing himself as Tony Hawkins, he said, "Hopef'lly y'all can use assault rifles. These 're the new kind – SA17. Help yahselves." We started pulling the nearest guns off of the walls. I studied mine approvingly. It had a 2x scope melded into the body – it definitely wasn't a sniper's weapon – and a curved compact surface. It was sleek and refined. I liked it.

I looked up to see Hawkins studying me. "When yah's finished eyein' the gun, maybe yah want to use it." Most of the company had already found spots on the range. I found one of the many empty stations and checked the electronic readout below the scope. Forty-five shots. Not an amazing capacity, but not too bad either.

I set the rifle to semi-automatic and took off the safety. I started with the fifty-yard targets, firing without the scope. It was fairly accurate, hitting reasonably close to the bulls-eye. It was pretty quiet, too. This was a recon jock's weapon, no question about it.

I used up the clip on the closer targets, admiring the accuracy and feel of the weapon. I became even more excited when I felt a circular groove under the barrel. I knew enough about guns to realize this groove was made for a bayonet knife. These rifles were amazing.

As I fired my last few shots, footsteps came up behind me. I turned to see Shana standing with Sarge, watching. "Good shooting," said Sarge. "You like the gun?"

"Yes sir, it feels great." _Why are they talking to me?_

"Take out that clip and leave it here. Bring the gun back to the armory."

"Why, sir? What's going on?"

Sarge smiled. You could tell at moments like this that he loved the military. Or hated it. Didn't really matter either way.

"You're going to the Killing Field."

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 4 sometime late next week, when I get back from France. Reviews make my day, so feel free to cheer me up.<em>


	4. Hide and Go Seek

_France was fantastic. Great food and views and all that stuff. Now that I'm back, I figure that it's time for another chapter. By the way, I will use some of the suggestions already written in the comments in future chapters. Please keep making them._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Hide and Go Seek<strong>

_March 22, 2356. C.G.B. _Anchorage.

Sarge paced in front of the forty-eight eager marines of fifth company sitting in a briefing room. We were now wearing some kind of plastic body armor and helmets, and our guns were loaded. Shana stood to the side, watching. "The rules are simple. You will enter the Killing Field in two teams of twenty-five. Your guns will be loaded with electronic rounds, and your body armor is covered in sensors. If your gun is dead, so are you. First team to sixteen kills wins the round."

A marine in the front raised his hand. "Sir, you said two teams of twenty-five. There are forty-eight of us."

Sarge chuckled. "Well spotted, Private. Corporal Bayes and I will be joining you in your little game."

Shana looked up at him, surprised. I smiled. _Looks like she wasn't ready for this either,_ I thought.

Sarge turned to a rack that held several SA17s, helmets, and sets of body armor. Shana walked over to take one of each and whispered something to him, to which Sarge smiled and whispered something back. She frowned and took a step back as Sarge faced us again.

"The corporal and I will be the captains. Split yourselves into two groups of twenty-four." When no one moved, he yelled, "What are you waiting for? Presents? Get moving!"

I moved over to where Victor was standing. I saw Pete watching us as he moved to the other group, grinning slyly. "He wants to shoot us," I murmured to Victor.

"Let him have his fun, _Alito_," Victor grinned. "This way we can shoot him back."

Turned out that Sarge would be the leader of our team – Alpha Team. I looked over to Beta Team and saw Shana watching me for a second before she looked away.

_Why does she keep watching me?_

I tried to push it out of my mind. Shana took Beta Team through the door that led to the Killing Field. Once their team was through, Sarge led us in. The room was large – about the size of a soccer field back home – but almost totally empty. A few hundred indentations covered the floor, but the walls and ceilings were bare besides the lights. Beta Team waited on the other side of the field, watching us. _What do they expect us to do – just charge and shoot? I guess that's why it's called the Killing Field._

"Ready!" Sarge shouted. About half of the indentations in the floor opened up, and metal panels began rising out of the floor. They stopped at about ten feet high. A few of the marines gasped as they realized what the Killing Field was. A maze. Clever.

Sarge grinned. "Prepare to move out," he said. "Never go alone. We advance slowly, trying to make sure that no one gets past our line. Move out." And with that, Alpha Team started its advance into the maze.

Victor and I took the far left side. We turned several corners, guns at the ready; one of us was always watching the other's six. I peered around a corner to see two Beta team members passing by this section of the maze. Several contours in their armor glowed blue, and I looked down to see that my own armor was outlined in red.

"Two Betas, one o'clock," I whispered to Victor. We snuck up to the next corner, guns raised. The Betas were getting ready to turn another corner. I stepped into the next passage, aimed at the back of a Beta's head, and fired. The gun made a brief buzzing sound; the lights on his vest went out, and he turned to me, pulling the trigger on his gun several times. But nothing happened. _When your gun is dead, so are you._

I didn't have time to celebrate. The other Beta turned to us, raising his gun. Big mistake – if your gun isn't raised when there could be an enemy mere feet away, then you're probably going to die. Before I could pull the trigger, though, I heard another buzzing sound, and the other Beta lowered his weapon as his lights went out. Sarge stuck his head and his gun around the corner as the Betas walked away, guns held high over their heads as a sign of being out of the game. Once he saw who we were, Sarge nodded before going back the way he came.

I quickly checked the small transparent HUD next to my left eye. There was a red two and a blue two. Two kills for each team. Fourteen to go until somebody won.

Victor and I kept moving, using the same strategy as before. Near us we heard several buzzing sounds – a firefight. We turned a corner just as an Alpha ran by us – one of the younger members of the company. Victor raised his gun and fired just as another set of footsteps rounded the next corner. The disgusted Beta watched his lights go out and walked away. Victor and I continued around the next bend. We heard a buzzing sound from somewhere behind us, and I checked the HUD. Alpha now had five, and the Blue number changed from a three to a four. Probably the newbie who had run past us.

"Watch our six," I whispered to Victor as we turned the next corner. I wouldn't be surprised if a couple of Betas were following us right now. We had to be careful.

I heard two buzzes, and Alpha's score changed to seven. Around the next corner, I saw Sarge and another Alpha move past two eliminated Betas. I made a circle in the air with my hand and chopped it down. _All of us go forward?_ Sarge nodded, and we continued as a group of four.

Sarge took point, I was second, and Victor and the other Alpha watched the rear. Sarge turned a corner and quickly stepped back as several buzzes came from the next passage. He raised two fingers and pointed left, then right. _Two Betas, one on the left side, one on the right._

I looked back to Victor and the other Alpha. The fourth man was watching one corner when his armor went dark. At the same time, another Beta flashed across the passage Victor was guarding and pulled his trigger. I saw a brief flash of a hulking black man – Pete. And he was grinning. Victor pulled back, but not fast enough; the red glow on his armor faded away, and he raised his gun above his head. "Good luck, _amigo_," he whispered as he walked away.

So now it was Sarge and I against at least four Betas. I checked my HUD. Alpha ten, Beta twelve. Beta had passed us, and it looked like they could win. I tapped Sarge's shoulder and motioned to where Pete and the other Beta were waiting. He nodded and returned to his fight with the other two Betas.

I tapped Sarge's shoulder again and used hand motions to quickly outline my plan. His mouth curved up in a twisted grin as he nodded, and he turned to cover my six.

I lay down on the floor, hoping that Sarge would cover me long enough for me to take care of business. I had noticed a small button on my HUD earlier – a small crosshairs next to the score counter. I pressed it, hoping I would see – yes! The HUD now showed the view of my scope. Since the guns died when we did, I figured that our armor was connected to the gun wirelessly. My wager had paid off. I stuck the barrel around the corner as close to the floor as I could. Because it was so sleek and almost the same color as the dark gray walls, it was barely noticeable. In my HUD, I could see the two Betas watching the corner intently, guns raised. They didn't notice my gun sticking out around the corner and firing. The Beta on the left was out, and I turned to the one on the right. She saw my gun almost immediately and moved before I could shoot her. I motioned to Sarge and made more gestures. _One down, one moving, coast clear._

We moved forward, Sarge still watching my six. I had no idea what had happened to Pete. I checked the HUD again. Alpha twelve, Beta thirteen. Almost there. As I watched, Alpha changed to thirteen. I heard Sarge mutter, "Gotcha!" and smiled. Good old Sarge.

I heard running nearby as we turned yet another corner. Pete came into view, gun pointed behind him. He looked forward and tried to fire, but it was too little too late. Sarge and I both fired, and Pete fell victim to the three buzzes that followed.

Wait. Three?

I ran around a corner quickly as more shots came from behind. Since there were no actual bullets, I had no way of knowing how close the shots were or where they came from exactly. Next to me, Sarge chuckled and slowly raised his rifle above his head. He was out, the victim of what I now realized was Pete's decoy move to eliminate Sarge. I looked around the corner as I fired. I caught a brief glimpse of long brown hair as my opponent moved back behind cover. Shana.

Despite myself, I chuckled. So I had almost shot Shana earlier, and she had taken out Sarge. She was good. But I was better.

I hoped.

The score was now fifteen even. I had to make this fast. I raised my gun—

My lights went out, and my gun clicked as the ammo readout faded to black. My first thought was that I'd been hit, but a loud bell sounded next, and I realized that the match was over. I checked the HUD – Alpha sixteen, Beta fifteen. We won.

"Nice game," said a voice. It was Shana – but it came from _behind me._ I turned around in amazement. Somehow she had snuck around behind me in the maze. If the match had continued for another few seconds, she would have had me. "Thanks," I replied. "You almost got me."

Shana grinned. Not a smile, just a grin – pure adrenaline-fueled satisfaction, even though she hadn't quite managed to kill me. "Next time. Alvin." She walked away, towards the exits now illuminated from above by green halogen lights.

Hmm. _She said my name._ I smiled at the thought of teenage emotions running through me. That would be funny. If I actually had a crush on her, I knew it wouldn't feel like this. Would I tell Rick about Shana?

Nah.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you liked it! Chapter 5 coming soon. You know what to do.<em>


	5. Recon Red Team

**Chapter 5: Recon Red Team**

_March 22, 2356. C.A.C. _Nova Scotia.

"…but the second Beta got away. So Sarge and I started going after her. Then we hear footsteps, and next thing I know, Pete comes barreling around the corner like there's a whole stinking battalion after him. We shoot him, but then that other Beta shoots Sarge, and I'm stuck with the score at fifteen even. I'm about to make my move when the game ends. Alpha's won, and I go to find that other Beta, but now she's _behind_ me. She almost killed me. It was a pretty good game."

Rick nodded as I finally stopped talking to take a bite. After we left the Killing Field, we had headed back to the armory, where Sarge gave us a briefing on the stats. Turned out that I was tied for third best score with Pete – we each had three kills. Sarge and Shana each got four. We went back to the range for a while and then shipped back to the _Nova Scotia_ for dinner about an hour ago. Again I had seen those mystery ships. What were they for?

"Sounds like you had a good time," nodded Rick. "We did dogfight sims in Skyhawks for a while. I got seven kills in two fights." I nodded my appreciation of his skills while chewing – even though Rick was more fit for a ship like the Buzzard, a Skyhawk would be like a painter's brush in his control, creating beautiful patterns of destruction wherever he flew. He was probably the best pilot I knew.

"So, anyway," he said, putting down his spoon, "who was the Beta woman who almost owned you? You ask her to dinner?" He looked around at the conspicuous lack of the female soldiers at our table. "If you did, she's missing out."

_He just had to ask that, didn't he?_ I had hoped to avoid that little detail. I cleared my throat and said, "Uh, Corporal Bayes."

Rick laughed hysterically. "Shana? Oh, that's perfect! Did you guys talk at all?"

"Yeah. Well, she said 'Nice game'."

"Ooh, sounds like an office romance growing." Rick was taking this much better than I had thought he would. Better for him, anyway. Now he had something to mess with me about. Especially since it was "his" girl.

"I'm glad this makes you happy, Rick," I said. "Do you want an introduction?"

"Nah, I'm good," he said, "but I do want an invitation to the wedding."

"What? We've said like two sentences to each other."

"A proposal only takes one."

"You're just getting ridiculous. Me and Shana? No way that's happening." I laughed, all of the tension gone. The only thing left bothering me were those ships.

Why were they here?

* * *

><p><em>March 23, 2356. C.G.B.<em> Anchorage.

This was Recon Red Team.

I sat with Victor and Pete in a briefing room on the _Anchorage_, along with the five other members of Red Team. This was one of five newly formed recon teams – new as in formed this morning, ten minutes ago – in fifth company. I didn't know the other five members of the team.

We had been waiting for a few minutes when Sarge walked in. He stopped in the center of the room, in front of the chairs set out for us. "You are Recon Red Team," he began. "Your job is simple: do what you've been trained to do. You'll be part of the first wave when we begin sending people down to the planet on the 29th. So get to know each other while I go check on the Killing Field." Sarge left just as abruptly as he had walked in.

I looked at the five unfamiliar faces around me, four men and a woman. "I might as well start," I began. "My name's Alvin Handells, Private First Class. I'm from North Dakota."

A Middle Eastern-looking man spoke up next. "Omar al-Saud, Private. From Cairo." His accent was much less pronounced that I had thought it would be.

Next was a bald man with the thickest brown handlebar mustache I had even seen. "Johnny Clinton, Lance Corporal. I'm from Arkansas." His accent, on the other hand, was pretty much what I had expected from looking at him.

"Jake Washington," said the next guy. He had a kind of light Australian accent. "PFC. New Wales."

A pale man, possibly even younger than me, looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. "I am from Volgograd," he said after a few seconds in a thick Russian accent. "I am Private Viktor Kozlov."

Silence. The Kozlov family, almost two hundred years ago, had rebelled against the United Nations to create a neo-Communist regime. They had sparked the Interplanetary War, a ten-year conflict that devastated parts of Earth and other planets and moons. The Kozlov family was still infamous, and many members had turned to crime because they weren't accepted in many parts of society. We could see why Viktor looked ashamed. Rational or not, a lot of people still prejudiced against the Kozlov family in general. I wouldn't judge – I was just going to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I didn't know about the other people here.

Victor – as in the Spanish Victor – coughed. "Well, my name's also Victor. Victor Herrera, PFC, like Alvin here. I am from Galicia, in Spain."

"Pete Wellington, Private First Class," said Pete in his strange accent. "I was born in New Manila, on Mars." He was definitely the biggest person here. Only Johnny came close to Pete's size – but Pete still had six inches and probably thirty pounds on him.

"Same here," said the woman, who hadn't spoken yet. She was the opposite of Pete – short, Caucasian, blonde. I couldn't detect a real accent, so I guess she was probably American in origin before her parents or grandparents moved to Mars. The majority of humans still lived on Earth, so it was no surprise that most of our squad was from there. "Dana Wilson, Lance Corporal."

We talked for a few more minutes until Sarge returned. He simply said, "Follow me," and walked out the door again.

We followed Sarge to the armory, where Captain Murphy was waiting with an assortment of weapons laid out on two tables. I recognized all of them: five SA-17s, an AA-22 shotgun, a MRAC sniper rifle, a Heckler and Koch SMG-30, and several S-145 Magnum pistols.

"They're already loaded with electronic rounds," said Murphy. " Pick your gear. Everyone gets a pistol and another weapon. Lance Corporal Clinton?"

Johnny stepped forward. "Yes sir?"

"You are the ranking officer for your squad."

"Thank you, sir."

The rest of us were already searching through the weapons. I was just fine sticking with the SA-17 and a Magnum. Pete picked up the AA-22 – a big weapon for a big man. It suited him. Johnny picked up the H&K submachine gun and grinned. It almost looked like a toy in his large hands, but I guess he was fine with that.

Everyone else chose their weapons, mostly sticking to the SA-17s like I had. Viktor hung back until only the MRAC and a Magnum were left. He hefted the MRAC with one hand and stuck the Magnum into his holster with the other. I really hoped he actually knew how to use it.

Next we headed for the Killing Field. When we walked in, I couldn't help but look surprised. It had been transformed into a jungle of sorts, complete with random animal sounds played through hidden speakers. I knocked on a large tree next to me, confirming that it was only plastic. We all turned to look at Sarge, who had walked in behind us.

"On the other side of this jungle is a key," he said, pointing in the general direction of the other side of the field. "Your mission is to retrieve the key and bring it back to this point." He turned so that we could see a keyhole under a red button in the wall. "Insert the key and press the button to stop the simulation. Good luck."

Just like that, in his usual abrupt way, Sarge left the room, leaving us to begin.

There was no buzzer or indication of any kind that we were supposed to start. After about fifteen seconds, Johnny raised his SMG-30. "Two groups of three," he said. "Wilson, you'll take Herrera and Omar up the left flank. I'll go with Pete and Alvin to the right. Jake, go with Kozlov to find a place to set up with the MRAC." Johnny had almost spit out the word _Kozlov_, and he fixed his dark brown eyes on Viktor's. "I hope you know how to use that thing." Viktor nodded and lowered his head.

_Viktor's got some work to do if he wants to be accepted,_ I thought. _If he acts like he's hiding something, we'll just treat him like he's hiding something._

Pete and I followed Johnny as we entered the forest slowly. We had no idea what we would run into. Pete's AA-22 was raised at his shoulder height – about my head height – ready to blast whatever looked at him the wrong way. I wondered how an electronic round from a shotgun would work.

So far, so good. I glanced back at Viktor and Jake. They had found a small rocky outcropping by the left flank, rising about ten feet above the ground. They had a decent view of the forest – not ideal, but then, when were field conditions ever ideal?

Johnny and Pete took the front, the submachine gun and the shotgun together. I covered the left flank, watching the faux plants and trees as they lightly swayed. There was a kind of artificial wind going through the Killing Field, making everything look more realistic and somewhat creepy.

"Report," whispered Johnny into the mike in his helmet. The HUDs in our helmets now displayed the view of the scopes of our weapons, with a kind of infrared tinge. In the top left of the tiny screen, a small red cross pulsed. I blinked, and the HUD switched to small health readouts for each person. _Nice tech._ All of the readouts were green. So far, at least.

"Clear," said Dana. "Kozlov?"

"No sign of trouble," whispered Viktor.

"Wilson, get ready to curve your squad towards the key," said Johnny. "I'll do the same with mine. Kozlov, watch our backs and prepare for—"

At that moment, several things happened.

The lights went out. There one moment, gone the next. It was completely pitch black. A beam of light emanated from my SA-17 – a perk of having a new model – but Pete and Johnny didn't have light bulbs on their weapons.

Whatever Johnny had been about to say, I didn't hear. I heard his voice faintly, since he was about two feet away from me, but I couldn't make out the words.

_Radio's out._

Johnny spoke again, a little louder, and I could just make out the words. "Wilson! Report. Report…Kozlov! Answer me! Anyone!" No response.

Pete spoke, a massive silhouette in the darkness. "I think we're on our own, sir."

"This can't be right," I muttered. I was sure that it was part of the sim – I should have seen it coming – but I wanted confirmation. "Sarge, what's going on? Malfunction? Or part of the drill?"

No answer.

_Either Sarge is just not answering us…or something's actually gone wrong with the Killing Field._

From the light on my SA-17, I could make out Johnny scratching his neck. "Well," he said in his light twang, "I guess we're gonna have to get that key."

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 6 coming soon! Review, s'il vous plaît.<em>


	6. The Unexpected

**Chapter 6: The Unexpected**

_March 23, 2356. C.G.B. _Anchorage.

As far as I knew, everybody else had the same conclusion as I did – that this pitch blackness was just part of the sim. The darkness didn't make me feel any more comfortable, though. I had been afraid of the dark as a kid, and even now, it sure as heck didn't cheer me up.

Now that my SA-17 was the only visible source of light, I took point. To the left, I could faintly see three other beams of light sporadically moving through the trees. It looked like the other squad was fine for now. As for my HUD, the infrared view saved my sanity. I kept my gun raised so that the light and the infrared scope could guide my path.

"Let's keep looking for that key," said Johnny, "Faster now – we don't know what other surprises are waiting for us."

About ten feet ahead was what looked like a break in the forest. I stopped at the edge and looked around. It was just grass for about ten feet between here and the wall. To the left, hanging on a hook on the wall, was a silver key.

Johnny and Pete also saw what I was watching. "We'll make a break for it. Pete, cover the right. I'll cover the left. Alvin, grab the key. Then pull back to this point again. We'll go on three. One, two—"

On the other side of the enclosure, I saw light from an SA-17 moving rapidly towards the key. It looked like the other group had sent one guy to get it while the other two covered. We held position, waiting in case something went wrong. Whoever it was reached the key quickly and grabbed it off of the hook. The light turned back towards the forest. In the flash of light, I saw something. I couldn't tell what it was, except that it looked somewhat like a white ape, running lopsidedly towards the lone man, arms hanging low. The guy with the key must have shot at it, because several red bolts of light hit the ape creature. The shots must have been in a frequency we couldn't see in the light. The ape collapsed and vanished, just as soon as it had appeared. _A projection._

The other two lights joined the first in the open space. Johnny motioned to us to join them. We stepped out of the forest. I felt something turn in my stomach. Danger.

All at once, about a dozen of those ape things were running at the other group. A dozen red bolts came out as the group fired, but too late. While three of the ape things fell, the rest got close to the group and swiped their huge arms across them. The lights on their weapons went out.

_They have the key. If we don't get it…_

Johnny was thinking the same thing that I was. "Cover your light until I give the word," he told me. "We're going to get that key. Get ready to kill those things." I hid the light with my hand as we took a few steps towards the apes. "Ready. Three, two, one, fire."

I uncovered my light, revealing the ape things standing not ten feet away from us. They turned to us as we opened fire on them. My SA-17 doused the two closest to me with red, and they popped out of existence. Pete fired his shotgun at one as it charged, then into the face of another as it raised its arm to swipe. The shotgun's electronic blast looked like a miniature explosion of red in the light from my rifle. He drew his pistol as a third ape approached and put three rounds in its head. Johnny held his pistol in one hand and the SMG-30 in the other, looking like some kind of gunslinger. He sprayed the area in front of him with the SMG, killing two of the apes. Two pistol shots to the head of a third dropped it, and a final burst from the SMG brought down the fourth and final ape. Just like that, the apes were all gone.

I knelt down next to one of the "dead" people, who were lying on the ground.

It was Victor. "Can't help you," he said. "Key in my hand. All I can say." He handed me the key.

So now there were only five of us left – maybe just three, if Viktor and Jake had been neutralized. With no communications and only one light, it was hard to tell what was going on. At least we all still had infrared. I just hoped there weren't too many of the ape things left.

We reentered the forest, now twice as alert and twice as slow moving as we headed back the opposite direction. Johnny now took the rear with his SMG, and Pete covered the right flank. For a while, there was no trouble. I never assumed that we were out of danger yet, and when the first ape jumped in front of me, glowing white in my infrared view, my finger was already on the trigger, pouring out rounds of electronic death.

The ape fizzled away as more jumped towards us from the trees around us. Pete pumped away with his shotgun, and Johnny's SMG fired short bursts at every ape that looked his way. We took out at least seven or eight of them before one ape dropped down _behind_ me. I dove down to the ground as the ape swung. If it had been solid and not just a projection, I'm sure that I would have felt the wind from its arm on my neck. I hit the grass hard, dropping my SA-17 in the process. I drew my pistol and shot the ape while feeling around for the rifle with my left hand. Nothing – the light from the SA-17 had gone out when I dropped it.

Now I was in silent darkness. The apes only appeared in light, so I had to rely solely on my infrared. There were two apes left, just standing there. The two warm bodies on the ground were Johnny and Pete, both "killed" by the apes. But it looked like the apes couldn't see in the dark either. _Perfect,_ I thought. I had solved the problem of the apes. Still on the ground, I slowly raised my pistol and shot each ape in the head.

I stood and began moving back in the general direction of the starting point – or at least I _hoped_ it was the starting point. Up ahead, I saw one ape standing next to a tree. Without hesitation, I shot it twice. Only then did I think about the fact that the red bolts revealed my position to the apes. And that the tree was apparently wide enough to hide four more of the dumb white beasts. Whoops.

They ran at me, no primitive animal sounds, no noise as they went through the brush on the ground. I shot two before running to the right, barely ahead of the last pair. I took a left turn around a tree, desperately hoping there were no more of the apes up ahead. I turned in midstride and fired twice, taking out one of the apes. But the last one was almost on me. I dove for the second time in as many minutes. The ape's arm was coming down at my head. I knew this wasn't real, but I couldn't help freezing in fear as the arm—

The ape fizzled out as four red bolts hit it. A bright white light shone behind me, and I turned to see Jake, SA-17 raised, standing ten feet away. "Let's go," he said. "We're running out of time."

We made our way back to the red button, which was, thankfully, still glowing. Jake told me that six of the apes had approached their position from the forest. Viktor had taken out three with the MRAC and one with his pistol before they got him. Jake had been patrolling the line ever since, using the infrared to get up close to the apes and kill them. I inserted the key into its hole and pressed the button.

A loud buzzing sounded as the lights returned. I could see Viktor at the foot of the rocky outcropping, standing up and picking up his sniper rifle. I heard noises in the forest, and several seconds later, Johnny and Pete emerged from the trees, Pete's AA-22 slung over his shoulder. Johnny scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.

"I'm pretty sure," he began in his now-familiar drawl, "that I didn't sign up for _Planet of the Apes_."

* * *

><p>The good news was that we weren't awful. The bad news was that we just weren't that good. We had gotten a rating of 5.5 out of 10. Half a point was subtracted from each team member lost, so that was 3 points gone to begin with. On completion, considering how we had rallied back to win, we got 4.5 out of 6 for tactics and completion. Sarge lectured us on how to improve for the rest of the sims, and then we shipped back to the <em>Nova Scotia<em> for dinner and sleep.

I didn't see Rick until breakfast the next day, when he told me about his flight sims. As usual, he outflew the rest of the pilots, tying the simulation record for the _Anchorage_ in dogfighting. He also peppered me with questions about Shana – which, thankfully, I couldn't respond to since I hadn't seen her since the first battle sim. I seemed to be his link to his dream world now, a role I had never signed up for. But I put up with it – it wasn't too big of a deal, not yet, at least.

The next several days passed somewhat quickly. Recon Red Team – definitely not the name I would have chosen for a reconnaissance squad – went through more similar missions, improving quickly. The last two days, we had no casualties. The squad seemed to be bonding quickly, except for Viktor Kozlov. But Jake seemed to befriend him, so I was happy enough with that.

The other Victor spent the majority of his time off the battlefield thinking up new names for the squad. He would go up to Johnny – who always tried unsuccessfully to look annoyed – and say, "Hey, Lance, I've got another one, _sí_? How about Johnny Reb and the Alamo Gang?" To that, Johnny would tersely reply, "You're mixing up two different wars, private" – he was a history buff, at least for American history – and then laugh. Good times.

* * *

><p><em>March 28, 2356. C.G.B. <em>Anchorage.

It was the last day before we headed down to the planet. After scanning the surface, Rear Admiral Montel and the _Anchorage_'s commanding officer, Captain Mark Schlosberg, had decided to call it Argos. It was mostly covered with rocks and giant craters, and almost everything was red. Several small forests of trees dotted the equator, and there was some plant life scattered around the planet. At the approximate north pole was a small frozen ocean of good old H2O, probably within an enormous crater. At the south pole were more rocks and craters.

The entire 5th Company was brought into one more simulation on the ; this time, the Killing Field was more like the surface of the rocky planet. All of Recon Red Team was on the same team this time, and we led our team to victory, even though both Shana and Sarge were on the other side. I had a good feeling about our squad for the days ahead.

After the sim was over, I put away my gear and set out to find a bathroom. I turned a couple of unfamiliar corners and found myself in a large hallway, devoid of anything except two officers walking maybe fifteen feet in front of me. Completely lost, I started to approach the officers. I overheard some of their conversation:

"So that's it? That's what we're doing here?" asked one – probably a lower-ranked officer.

"That's right," replied the other. "This is still technically an exploration mission, but UNSC sent us here for the tantalum, and the scans confirm that we'll need the mining ships—"

The officer turned and saw me. I had already adopted a casual military walk, trying to avoid direct notice. But, by the regulations, I had to salute him. "Sir!" I said crisply. I didn't say anything else – no use acting like I had, say, heard classified information, to use a completely random example.

Both men lightly touched their brows in response. "Private," said the higher ranked officer, "is there something we can help you with?"

"Well, sir," I said, feigning embarrassment – which was better than unintentional espionage – "I'm stationed on the _Nova Scotia_, and I was wondering where a bathroom would be around here."

The lower-ranked officer – a Lieutenant Junior Grade – snickered for half a second and quickly composed himself. The other – a Commander – seemed not to notice except for a quick glance sideways at the man. "If you turn around and head left, you'll find a bathroom on your right."

"Thank you, sir," I said, and saluted. The commander returned the gesture, and I turned around and started walking the way I came.

_Tantalum._ My mind was spinning as I turned the corner. So those giant ships were for mining. Interesting. The officer who had told me was a commander – second highest rank on the _Anchorage_, behind Captain Schlosberg. It looked like this was privileged information. I finished my business in the men's room and started out for the hangar bay. I had a lot of stuff to tell Rick.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 7 coming soon. Just a "good job" or a "this sucks" would be appreciated – but I would prefer the former.<em>


	7. Argos, the Red Planet

**Chapter 7: Argos, the Red Planet**

_March 28, 2356. C.A.C. _Nova Scotia.

Dinnertime. I sat with Rick and Victor, telling them about my discovery on the _Anchorage_. They were as shocked as I had been.

"Tantalum?" asked Rick. "What's that?"

"A blue-gray metallic mineral, very corrosion resistant, and used in electronic equipment." We turned to see Sarge standing above us. He took a seat next to me. "So why are you talking about tantalum?"

I decided to take a chance and told him the story of my discovery. "So," he said when I finished, "you said that the UNSC sent us here for the tantalum?"

"That's right, sir. Or at least that's what the commander said."

"Then how did the UNSC know that there was tantalum out here already?"

It was a very good question. Our probes didn't have that kind of capacity. They were just sent to an unexplored planet to sample the atmosphere and get some video of the terrain. I thought about that one for a while.

"Also," Sarge continued, "why would a commander be telling this to a lieutenant junior grade? That kind of officer isn't supposed to be in the loop for classified information like this."

"I don't understand it either," I replied. "What should we do?"

"Nothing. You'll be sent down to the planet tomorrow as part of the first wave. I'm sure you'll get more information then." Sarge stood. "Good luck, men."

* * *

><p><em>March 29, 2356. C.A.C. <em>Nova Scotia.

There we were again. Rick and I stood in front of the A5R Buzzard. This time, the rest of Recon Red Team stood with me. Sarge had gotten us assigned to Rick's Buzzard. We all stood waiting with our weapons – finally loaded with real ammunition, ready for whatever we might encounter on Argos.

_"Board ships,"_ said the PA. Rick climbed up into the cockpit and opened the bay doors. All of us took and seats and waited as the doors closed, leaving us in dim light. The two Gatling seats were unoccupied; Viktor and Jake would take those when we entered the atmosphere.

Rick must have received some kind of signal, because the four turbine engines hummed to life, and the Buzzard lifted off the ground. I felt a slight tremor as we passed through the bay shields and headed out into the vacuum. I knew that the turbines compacted and folded into the body of the Buzzard, which was being propelled by fuel engines at the moment.

One of the worst things about space travel in a troop carrier was that we couldn't actually see anything outside. I could imagine this being terrifying if a battle broke out in space. But there hadn't been any space battles since the Kozlov Communist revolution, so we were safe. "How long do we have, Rick?" I asked.

"About twenty minutes until we break into the atmosphere," he called back.

Johnny started passing around a stack of paper that I hadn't seen before. "Information on Argos, kids." I took one packet and started skimming through it. Argos was, as I previously stated, red, and about ninety percent the size of Earth. Luckily, Argos operated on approximately a 24-hour day. I checked my watch – we would enter the upper atmosphere at about 0950. The atmosphere was breathable – sixty-two percent nitrogen, thirty-six percent oxygen, and two percent carbon, hydrogen, and other gases. It was a little oxygen-heavy, which meant that fires were much more likely to start and spread, although there wasn't much to burn on the planet. A few hundred large craters were dotted around the planet. All in all, it was a good candidate for terraforming – gradually reshaping the atmosphere and terrain to make it more habitable for humans and animals.

By the time I finished the packet, we had reached the atmosphere. I heard a _thump_ as the turbines were unfolded. "Doors opening," said Rick. "Man the guns." Although we weren't exactly worried about being attacked, regulations were regulations. The doors hissed open, and Viktor and Jake took the gunners' seats.

Argos was red. Yeah, I know, I've said this several times already, but it was red. Large red rock formations and red deserts stretched out for miles. They were all that we could see right now. All that there was to see on this entire planet, pretty much.

A voice crackled in my helmet. "All groups, this is Commander Nielson." I recognized the voice of the commander I had spoken to on the _Anchorage_ yesterday. He continued, "Here are your assignments. Each assignment will be listed by squad."

I listened as the other groups were called out. Blue Team, Gold, Green, Ivory, Cobalt – a lot of colors were used as identifications. Along with Red Team, these were the six reconnaissance teams of 5th Company. Finally, I heard, "Red Team, there is a crater about eight miles west of your position. We want preliminary reconnaissance to find any form of life. Sending coordinates now."

Johnny rapped on the metal armor partition that partially separated us from the cockpit. "Pilot, that's us. Got those coordinates?"

"Yes sir, I do. Heading west." Rick could sound very professional when he actually felt like it.

I felt the shudder of the turbines as we banked left. The next few minutes were spent in silence as we approached the crater. Soon I could see it, a massive, roughly circular indent in the flat red ground. But as we got closer, I saw that it extended far deeper than it had originally appeared. It looked more like a sinkhole. "Hey, Lance," I said – that name had stuck to Johnny, a Lance Corporal – "is that a crater or a sinkhole?"

"Looks like a sinkhole, Private. The packet says that a lot of meteor impacts resulted in eventual sinkholes. So technically, it's both."

The Buzzard drew closer to the giant hole in the ground, whichever kind of hole it was. It flew over the lip and down, a hundred meters or so, to a large ledge sticking out from the side. The actual sinkhole extended down much deeper than that. I could see dozens of holes in the side of the sinkhole, likely tunnels worn over time by meteors or erosion or whatever it was. Maybe they were formed by whatever lived on this planet, if anything. I didn't know, and wasn't keen to find out.

The Buzzard lightly touched down on the ledge, and six of us jumped out, securing the area as we had been trained to do. My SA-17 finally had a bayonet knife attached to it. I liked the feel of having a combat knife on a gun, even if I didn't ever get the chance to use it. Viktor and Jake had the Gatling guns ready.

The hard part about reconnaissance on a new planet was that you have literally _no_ idea what you'll find coming up against you. For all we knew, there were dozens of flying chameleon creatures with giant claws coming down towards our Buzzard right now. We didn't have any basis to believe that – scans had showed no life forms besides scattered small flora, some trees, and bacteria in the water at the North Pole. So Viktor and Jake would man the Buzzard's turrets while the rest of Red Team would enter the cave we now faced.

Johnny chose Dana to take point and Omar to take the rear. Pete and I took the left flank, while Johnny and Victor took the right. Together we descended into the darkness, lights activated. Johnny and Pete had gotten lights for their respective weapons.

For three minutes we walked in silence. The ceiling was about eight feet high, and the cavern was pretty wide, giving me a strange feeling as I walked. What waited just beyond the reach of our lights? I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I guess – just red rocks.

Soon the walls began to narrow, and we were faced with the choice of two tunnels. The one on the right led upwards. The left tunnel led down and curved left, and we saw something blue, wavy and shining reflecting off of the rocks.

Water.

Dana led us into the left tunnel. I stopped halfway through to feel the walls. They felt mostly smooth, with a few jagged edges. I wondered how the tunnels were formed. I did notice that, instead of the dull red of the rest of Argos, this tunnel's walls were more grayish and reflective.

I left the tunnel and stood with the rest of our team at the edge of a small lake. It was probably almost the size of the Killing Field, and filled with pure, light blue water. I saw that the blue tint came from the stone surrounding the lake. It seemed to give off a light of its own, a gray-bluish light.

_A blue-gray metallic mineral…_ I realized the implications of what we had just found. I glanced at Victor, who just nodded – he had put two and two together as well. Johnny seemed to have a similar revelation.

"Commander Nielson," he said into his mike, "this is Lance Corporal Clinton with Red Team. The briefing said to report in if we find grayish blue rocks. Well, we've found a sizeable amount of those, as well as a large pool of water."

"Good work, Lance Corporal," came the reply over our headsets. "We'll be sending some people to your position." By _some people_, I guessed he meant a mining crew. That wasn't necessarily a good idea, considering we had hardly even explored this part of the sinkhole yet. "Head back to your Buzzard and wait for us."

"Yes sir," replied Johnny. Turning to us, he asked, "Does anyone knew what this stuff is?"

"Tantalum," I said, unbidden. Everyone looked at me. "It's a corrosion resistant metal used in making a lot of electronics," I explained.

"That wasn't mentioned in the briefing," said Johnny. "How do you know this stuff?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I just do." I saw Victor grinning out of the corner of my eye. Of course, that was just what Sarge had told me last night at dinner. I knew no more about tantalum than that.

After taking one last look around the cavern, we all filed out. I was second to last out, in front of Omar. I had just stepped into the tunnel when he said, "Wait." We all stopped. I looked back into the cavern. There was something moving through the water – something alive. We all came back in to watch as it approached our edge. As it got closer, we saw a row of short spines on its back. It appeared to be black, but maybe that was the effect of being dark when it was surrounded by light. I would say it was something like a giant lizard, maybe five feet long, including a short stubby tail.

Then I saw its face. Below the top part of the jaw were four flaps of skin. It took me a moment to notice that they were actually part of the jaw, opening and closing around the creature's mouth.

The creature reached the edge of the lake. Now it was just ten feet from us. It opened its mouth, and we all saw the light dancing off of the gleaming sharp yellowish teeth in the split jaws. It walked forward – on six legs – and extended four long claws from each of the front two feet. We realized – a bit too late – that it might be a _predatory_ animal.

"Walk out slowly," said Johnny. His SMG was up but not quite aimed at the lizard. "Don't make any sudden moves or it'll attack." One by one, we left until Johnny, Omar and I were the only ones left.

"Let's go," said Johnny. He stepped backwards, right onto a stone jutting from the wall. He slipped for a second, accidentally kicking the wall in the process.

That was enough for the lizard. It started walking towards us, faster, mouth gaped wide open. One thought of those horrid teeth in my skin had me firing away with my SA-17. Omar and Johnny did likewise.

Ah, lead. Real lead, not an infrared laser. It felt good to fire real bullets – it made me feel safe. But even after I unloaded thirty rounds on the lizard, it was unfazed. We had slowed it down, but it shook its head and kept walking.

Johnny and Omar were in equal shock. "Run," said Johnny, already turning to the exit. "Just run." We took off through the tunnel, hoping the lizard couldn't do anything like, well, run with those six legs. After sprinting about thirty feet out of the tunnel, we turned, guns raised. But the lizard hadn't chased us. Either that or it was ridiculously slow. Either case was fine with us.

We still ran the rest of the way, slowing down when we were within shouting distance of the Buzzard. When we arrived, everyone was there, waiting.

"I was about to come in there after you, _Alito_," said Victor. "Man, you had me worried."

"Everyone good out there?" asked Rick from the cockpit.

"We're fine…what's your name again?" asked Johnny.

"Rick Allen, sir. And everyone needs to hop back in. They're waiting for us up top." Rick fired up the turbines as we took our seats.

About two minutes later, we crested the edge of the sinkhole. Waiting for us there was a ship.

One of the mining ships.

Portable buildings had already been erected near the ship – the start of a mining camp, I guessed. People were moving around, shouting to each other, constructing more buildings. Several Buzzards sat in a designated landing zone. A man on the ground with two large orange light sticks waved us over. Rick set the gunship down lightly, and everyone disembarked. The man on the ground was wearing a bright orange vest, sunglasses, and a thick headset with a microphone.

"Welcome to New Edessa," he said. "You guys Red Team?" Johnny nodded. "Head over to headquarters. That big building over there," continued the man, pointing to a two-story metal structure in the center of the compound.

As we walked through the newly established structures – now dubbed "New Edessa" – dozens of men and women were walking or running through the compound. A few were soldiers, but most of them wore overalls. Some carried electric drills, some pushed carts of helmets with headlamps, and all of them, I guessed, were miners. Sarge was right – UNSC had to have known about this before sending the _Nova Scotia_ on its mission.

We walked through the door of the headquarters and found ourselves in a kind of reception area. The only people there were two soldiers sitting behind a desk. They looked up when we walked in.

"Red Team, 5th Company?" asked one.

"That's us," answered Johnny. "Lance Corporal Jonathan Clinton. We were told to report here."

"Good. Which one of you is PFC Alvin Handells?"

I stepped forward. "That's me."

"The Commander wants to see you before the others. Through this door." He pointed behind him to a door. I walked over and knocked on the door. "PFC Alvin Handells, sir."

"Come in, Private," came the reply.

That voice.

As I opened the door, I took in the details of the room. About ten feet by ten feet, gray metal walls like everything else, and a window to the compound. A desk with a computer pad, a nameplate, and a chair were the only features of the room, besides the tall commander watching the window. I read the nameplate: CDR RORY NIELSON.

Now I knew why he wanted to see me. This couldn't be good.

Nielson turned and regarded me with the same look he'd used yesterday, when I had accidentally overheard him discussing privileged information. I wished more than ever that I'd just found that bathroom before running into him.

"Now, Private," he began in a calm voice, "let's talk about mining."

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><p><em>I'll take suggestions and reviews, and candy if you're offering. On a more serious note, the next chapter, Chapter 8, will be the last chapter for a while. I need to catch up on the story and work on some others that I'm developing.<em>


	8. Tantalum

RESPONSES TO REVIEWS

Zelox: Thanks for both of your rather kind reviews! I'm honored that you think so highly of me.

Jarhead62: Thanks for keeping up with me since I started this story. Explosive rounds…it's a possibility. And I hope Chapter 7 explained what tantalum does, although (in spooky foreshadowing voice) there's more to it than that.

Kasrkin-Ghost: Thanks. I promise there's a purpose to what I'm doing with the romance. And ODSTs? We'll see...

Gundrium: Thanks for taking the time for such a detailed review. You might have possibly partially predicted part of the future of Argos. As for the "story rot", you're right. I think I'll keep working on this one for a while.

Kizzadog: Thank you kindly. I appreciate the fact that at least some people don't always expect what happens.

REVOLUTION 25: Thanks for the compliment. If you could show me what you meant about my military knowledge, that would be awesome. And I had no idea that you'd written a story like mine, but after I read the description, I saw the similarity. No plagiarism, promise.

On to the show!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Tantalum<strong>

_March 29, 2356. New Edessa, Argos._

Commander Nielson's dark piercing eyes were fixed on mine. I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to look defiant. Maybe I could explain my way out of this. I glanced at a clock on the wall – 1036. We had been on the planet for less than an hour and I had already gotten in trouble.

"So, Private Handells," began Nielson, "I seem to recall you being on the _Anchorage_ yesterday. You happened to be walking behind me when I was discussing privileged information."

"I didn't know what it was about, sir," I said, straightening. Looking professional never hurts.

"Well, in any case, I guess you can tell that we're here for mining purposes, so that no longer has to be secret. I also heard that you seem to know something about what we're searching for. Tantalum."

"I don't know much, sir, just what my sergeant told me."

Nielson's eyebrows rose. "And who is your sergeant?" Seeing me pause, he added. "He's not in trouble, Private. I just want to get my facts straight."

I coughed. "Staff Sergeant Harry Lester, sir."

Commander Nielson nodded. "I thought as much. Well, I just wanted to clear up what happened yesterday. You aren't in any trouble."

_He thought as much?_ How would Nielson know Sarge? And how would he assume that Harry was my staff sergeant?

"Another reason for seeing you," he continued, "is to talk to you about an opportunity. Yesterday, your sergeant recommended you for special projects. He recommended all of Red Team, but you in particular."

_So that's how he knows._ I didn't know Sarge thought that highly of me. I guess my hard work had paid off.

"Private, I would like you to accompany me on certain missions in the coming weeks. Maybe months. You will still be part of your squad, and go on their missions. But you will also be available for any assignments I need you for."

"Thank you, sir," I said. I had expected to get a reprimand of some kind when I came here – not a recommendation. At least, I hoped it was a recommendation. "When will I first accompany you on a mission, sir?"

Nielson sat down in his chair. "How are you feeling, Private?"

The question caught me off guard. "Sir?"

"Right now. How are you feeling?"

"Well, sir," I said, "I feel fine."

"Good. We'll be leaving in five minutes."

_Five minutes?_ That was definitely not what I had expected. "Where are we going, sir?"

"To the crater. Or the sinkhole, or whatever you want to call it. If you've really found tantalum, I want to see it."

So now, maybe an hour after entering Argos's atmosphere, I was flying to a sinkhole for the second time in a Buzzard. It turned out that Rick – being a stellar pilot – had also been recommended by his superior officer. When we went out to the landing zone to board the Buzzard, Rick was already in the cockpit, completing the preflight checklist. He looked up from his seat and saw me tapping on the glass, grinning like an idiot.

"Alvin! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, also grinning like an idiot.

"I don't know. Sarge recommended me to the commander, and next thing you know, we're heading back to the sinkhole." I shrugged. "That's life."

"Private Handells!" I heard behind me. I turned to see Nielson with a fiftyish man with gray hair and glasses. The man was dressed in a standard set of body armor and a helmet, which looked entirely out of place on his slight frame. "This is Dr. Adrian Halsey," said Nielson. "He will accompany us on our trip to the sinkhole." I held out my hand, and Dr. Halsey shook it enthusiastically. He had a lot of energy and vigor for a thin old man.

"What kind of doctor are you, sir?" I asked. "Medical? Scientist?"

"Both," the doctor replied, smiling. "I'm a certified surgeon, a biologist, and a geologist."

I hadn't even thought that was possible. I had gotten a C+ in biology. I decided not to mention that to the doctor.

"I'm glad to have you on the team, Private," Halsey continued. "What's your first name?"

"Alvin," I said. For some reason, I liked him. Maybe it was because he didn't use the word _private_ to make himself superior. Sarge could do that, and often did, but I didn't think it was on purpose.

"Well, Alvin, I don't like to use ranks or last names, unless I have to. Rory?" Halsey turned his attention to Nielson, as if to illustrate his point. "Is Alvin serving a special role here?"

Nielson didn't seem to mind the use of his first name. "Well, Doctor, he's just accompanying us for now. He seems to be an exemplary soldier, and he was also part of the team that found the cave."

"Well, Alvin, I hope to teach you a thing or two about what we're doing here." Halsey smiled and patted me on the back like a doting father. "Now let's get going."

Nielson, Halsey and I boarded the Buzzard, on which five other soldiers were already waiting. "Let's go," said Nielson, and Rick fired up the turbines. Soon, we were off again, heading back to the cavern. I saw five other Buzzards join us in the air. Apparently, we weren't going back into the cavern without backup.

Within minutes, we had landed on the ledge inside the sinkhole. Soldiers jumped out of the other Buzzards – about forty men in all – and most of them entered the cavern. I stuck with Nielson and Halsey, along with the other five soldiers in our Buzzard. I guess we were the honor guard or something. Six other soldiers hung back with the Buzzards.

"Private," said Nielson, "show us where you found the tantalum." Apparently he was just fine with using ranks instead of names.

We went to the head of the line of advancing soldiers. My SA-17 was raised and ready for whatever we would face. But in the light of thirty-two SA-17 light bulbs – plus a headlamp attached to Halsey's helmet – we could see pretty much everything in front of us. Nothing could surprise us.

Soon the cavern began to narrow, and we found the two tunnels at the back. "To the left," I said, and led the way in, Halsey and Nielson close behind. They seemed surprised at the large pool of water and the eerie glowing of the tantalum.

"It looks like Alvin was right," said Halsey. He pulled a small clear plastic case and a sharp metal tool out of a pouch on his belt. Turning to the wall behind us, he scraped a few slivers of mineral off of the wall and into the case. Halsey snapped the case shut. "Well, I'll have to run a few tests, but this does look like tantalum. Well done, Alvin."

"Thank you, sir."

Nielson took over at this point. "I'll divide the group into four squads of eight. We'll search for more deposits of tantalum in nearby caves."

As Nielson turned to the soldiers gathered behind us and started giving orders, I turned to Halsey. "Doctor, why do we need tantalum so badly?"

Halsey clapped his hands delightedly. "I'm glad you asked. Earth's supply of tantalum was used up probably half a century ago. It's useful as a substitute for platinum in electronic equipment, which is good, since we're running out of platinum too." Nielson motioned to us, and we followed him and seven other soldiers through a side tunnel next to the lake.

"I also have a theory," Halsey continued as we walked, "about another use of tantalum. You see, I got my hands on a small sample of tantalum about ten years ago – one of the few such samples remaining. I dissolved a few milligrams of ground-up tantalum – well, technically, tantalite, the mineral form – in an anabolic steroid mixed with water, which was then tested on a human subject. The result was incredible: the subject had increased strength and thought processing – more than the steroid would have usually produced – with none of the usual side affects, such as aggression, that steroids usually produce. And that was in a very small dose."

Even though I didn't understand the science behind it, I could tell what he was basically saying: tantalum turned steroids into super steroids. "Who was the subject?" I asked.

"Hold up," said Nielson. We all stopped at the entrance to another cavern. This one also held a pool of water, much smaller than the first one, as well as tantalum in the walls and ceiling.

There were also three of the giant lizards.

"Don't aggravate them," said Nielson quietly. "Handells, how do they hold up against our firepower?"

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. "We fired maybe eighty rounds at one, sir, and the lizard barely noticed."

"Crap," said Nielson eloquently. "Let's head back the way we came."

"Wait a second, Commander." Halsey was more professional when he was in front of Nielson's subordinates. "What's that one doing?" He pointed to a lizard at the edge of the water, its face almost touching the wall. I raised my rifle and aimed it at the lizard. When Halsey motioned to me to put it down, I said, "Just getting a closer look with the scope, Doctor."

I knew I must have been seeing something wrong, but I wasn't. The lizard was _licking_ the tantalum on the walls; a long forked tongue was extended from the center of the four jaw sections. Halsey noticed the same thing. "Fascinating," he breathed. "So the tantalite – possibly combined with the lizard's saliva – is a source of nutrients for the creature. Of course, it's just a theory. Maybe it even increases its metabolism. Tests. I need to run tests." He looked giddy with the prospect of this new discovery. "We need to start excavation soon, Commander."

"I guess so. Men, let's go back. It's time to regroup and see what the others have found." We turned and went back the way we had come.

"So, Doctor," I said, "who was the subject you tested the steroid on?"

"Me." Halsey grinned. "I don't want to risk others' lives when it comes to science."

I still had a number of questions. How did he get tantalum if the Earth's supply was gone? How did he know to mix it with a steroid and test it on himself? How did UNSC know that there was a large supply of tantalum on Argos? I decided to keep these questions to myself for now.

We emerged back into the main cavern, where a couple of dozen soldiers were already waiting for the last groups to arrive. Time to head back to New Edessa. At least, that was the plan.

"Incoming!" Three soldiers ran out of one of the caverns. They collapsed on the rocky ground and quickly turned, training their weapons on the mouth of the cave they had just left.

"What is it?" asked Nielson.

"Some kind of lizard thing," said one of them, breathless. "We tried to shoot it, but the bullets just bounced off. It's fast – really fast."

Bullets bouncing off – yeah, that fit the description of our new friends. But were they actually that fast? When Johnny, Omar and I had gotten away last time, that thing hadn't even bothered to chase us. I had assumed that it was slow, but maybe—

Something leapt out of the cavern. All of the lights trained on the entrance illuminated the lizard for a split second before we started falling back. At least no one was shooting – that crossfire could have turned ugly.

And then it hit me. No, not a thought – the lizard.

The lizard's body slammed into my stomach, pushing me to the ground. My world was all teeth and heavy reptile and people shouting. I struggled to move my arms out from under it – it must have weighed a few hundred pounds, at least. I freed my right arm and reached for my Magnum – my SA-17 was still trapped underneath the lizard. I raised the pistol to hit the lizard on the head, but its head had already moved – to my left shoulder. I felt something close around my shoulder armor – five things, actually. The top jaw and the four weird lips. They contracted, bending and then piercing the armor in a dozen little points, the teeth clamping down in search of flesh, finding it, digging deep—

I screamed, a painful animal scream. I raised my Magnum again and started pistol-whipping the lizard on the side of the head, yelling, "Get off! Get off!" Finally, after several excruciating seconds, the creature rolled off of me. Then it was gone, disappearing into one of the tunnels, dozens of rounds of rifle fire following it.

I blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze out of my vision. A bright light shone in my eyes. "Private Handells, can you hear me?" someone said. I didn't want to answer. I just wanted to sleep. So I did.

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><p><em>Taking a break from publishing in this story for a while. I want to spend some time writing more chapters so I know where I'm going with this. If you have any suggestions or ideas, this is the best time to tell me.<em>


	9. A Lot of Explanatory Science

**Chapter 9: A Lot of Explanatory Science**

_March 30, 2356. New Edessa, Argos._

_Ouch._

_ Okay, what's going on? What do I remember? I was in the cave…and then that lizard thing came at us…oh, that's why my shoulder hurts._

_ Well, I'm not dead. I think. No, of course I'm not dead. I'm lying on some kind of bed. Since I can feel the frame through the mattress, it must be in a hospital. That makes sense. Okay. Maybe I should open my eyes._

I opened my eyes. Yeah, I was in a hospital, on a hospital bed. I looked at myself. I was wearing the hospital gown, I had the IV in my arm, everything. Ha.

I still felt a little loopy. Well, _still_ meant that I'd felt that way before, and now I felt the same, so it wasn't exactly—

_Stop rambling and focus._ I opened my mouth and tried to swallow. It took a couple of seconds while my mouth found some moisture, but it worked. I looked up and saw a doctor standing above me, holding an electronic clipboard. He was looking at a machine next to me, taking notes or something. He saw me awake and quickly assumed a smile.

"Welcome back, Private. How do you feel?"

I coughed and swallowed again. "Like I got bitten in the shoulder by a giant lizard."

He chuckled. "Very funny, Private. Do you feel any nausea, discomfort, pain of any kind?"

"No, sir, I'm fine. My shoulder hurts."

"That will heal soon. You have people outside waiting to see you. Are you up to seeing them?"

"Sure," I said.

The doctor nodded and walked away, writing more notes on his clipboard. I watched him go to the door, where several soldiers were waiting. I recognized Rick, Victor and Johnny at the front of the group. _Good old Red Team, come to see the fallen hero. And Rick, of course._

"Alvin!" yelled Rick as he ran into the hospital, drawing angry glances from a few of the doctors attending their patients. He slowed down as he got near my bed, followed by the rest of Red Team. "You have to let me see it."

"See what?" I asked.

"The bite. That's crazy stuff, man. Let me see it."

Oh, yeah. The bite. I reached for the short sleeve of the hospital gown with my right hand, careful not to touch my arm as I pulled the sleeve back. On my left shoulder were maybe twenty or thirty tooth marks. It was really weird – the four "lips" of the lizard had left tooth marks on the top of my shoulder and the side of my arm as well as the front of my shoulder. The wounds had already become thin red scars, and I had to admit, they looked pretty impressive.

Victor laughed when he saw the wound. "Nice, _Alito_. Make sure you show that one to all the ladies. Just don't ruin it with a pickup line."

"Sure," I said, grinning. "Since you're the expert on awful pickup lines anyway."

"You know it," Victor said, grinning back.

Johnny leaned in closer to look at the scars. "So that's what those things can do. And that was through your armor?"

"Yeah. It kind of hurts." I gently replaced the sleeve over the bite marks. "So how are you guys doing?"

"Just fantastic," said Rick. "After you got bitten, Nielson and the doctor guy had me airlift you back here, straight to the hospital. Then I waited in a chair outside the operating room for two hours, only to find out that I wouldn't be able to see you until today."

_Today?_ "What's the date?" I asked.

"Don't freak out, _Alito_," replied Victor. "You've only been asleep for twenty-four hours. They used anesthetics to keep you from waking up until they were sure that there was no infection."

So I was perfectly fine. My shoulder still hurt, but apparently there were no other lasting effects. "What did the doctors do? I mean, did they operate on me, sew up the wounds, what?"

Rick opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by someone clearing his throat behind the group gathered around my bed. They parted to reveal Commander Nielson and Doctor Halsey.

"How do you feel, Private?" asked Nielson.

"I'm fine, sir, my shoulder's just a little sore," I replied.

"That's good. You'll need to come with us."

I started to push myself up, wincing a little bit as my shoulder protested. "You mean, get out of bed and go with you?"

"You said you were fine," said Nielson. I could see something faintly resembling a smile on his face. "We're not leaving the hospital; we're just going to a different room. And your friends can't come with us, unfortunately."

I swung my legs out from under the thin blanket and took a couple of steps, testing my balance. Nielson and Halsey started walking, and I followed them, leaving Red Team and Rick standing at the bed. I shrugged as I passed Rick. "I'll meet up with you after this," I said.

We left the room and walked down a long hallway to a black door with an ID card scanner. Nielson swiped his card and opened the door, letting Halsey and I inside before closing the door behind us. There was a circular table with four chairs in the middle of the small room. Nielson and Halsey took their seats and motioned to me to sit down as well.

"Before we get started," said Nielson, "is there anything you want to know?"

There were a heck of a lot of things I wanted to know. "What kind of surgery did you guys do to me?"

"Nothing," said Halsey. "We just took a blood sample and performed some tests."

Nothing? Two hours in the operating room and there was no surgery? I checked my arms, but I saw no sign of any needle marks. I was starting to see that there was something going on here, but I didn't want to make any problems right now. I just wanted some answers. "How did my wounds heal up so fast? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Halsey said again. "I know this will be hard to believe, but just bear with me. By the time we got you into the operating room and removed your armor, the bite wounds had healed, leaving only thin scars. In the space of ten minutes."

"They were deep, too," added Nielson. "That lizard's teeth were probably two or three inches long. Based on the holes in your armor, they penetrated through your skin at least an inch."

I wasn't really a medical expert, but that sounded kind of strange. When I was fifteen, I had been messing around with some friends in a junkyard. I had tried to do a backflip off of an old car, and a piece of rusted metal sticking out from the hood had cut a gash in my leg. That wound had taken two weeks to heal. But ten minutes?

"Then we took a blood sample," continued Halsey. "About a minute after we removed the needle, we noticed that the insertion point was gone. It had healed up, without any sign that we had ever stuck a needle in you."

This was getting really, really weird.

"While the blood was being analyzed," Halsey said, "we tried to take a bone marrow sample."

"What do you mean, _tried_?" I had a strange feeling as to where this was going.

Halsey chuckled. "The extraction needle couldn't break through the surface of the bone. That, as far as we know, has never happened. Ever."

I couldn't make myself process what the doctor was saying. "So…" I began, "you're saying that…my bones are indestructible or something?"

"Not quite indestructible," Halsey replied. "And we're certainly not going to try to test the limits of your new skeleton." New skeleton. That just sounded strange. "I believe," continued the doctor, "that the creature's saliva, mixed with the tantalum, changed some of your basic bodily functions. For one thing, it triggered tantalum carbide ossification."

My blank stare prompted the doctor to explain. "Basically, the elements of tantalum in the saliva grafted themselves onto your bone structure. Your skeleton is now about three or four times as strong. It can also withstand much higher temperatures – about four thousand degrees Celsius. Your bones have become similar to a material with which we used to build skyscrapers. Tantalum carbide."

"Dang." That was all I could say at the moment. I was still processing the "four times as strong" part.

The doctor continued. "Your immune system has also been greatly enhanced and accelerated. Your skin now heals about two hundred times faster than normal, approximately. If I were you, I wouldn't worry about contracting any diseases either."

I wasn't really reacting to the information yet. I knew the shock would set in soon, but for now I just took it in stride. "Okay," I said. "Is there anything else?"

"Actually, yes," said Nielson. "We think that it has also affected your muscles. You should find yourself stronger and faster than before."

"This is incredible," said Halsey, chuckling. He was actually laughing, doubled over and slapping the table. I couldn't help but smile as the commander and I watched Halsey try to regain control of himself. Finally he looked up, wiping tears away from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Alvin, Rory, but this is just amazing!" Halsey exclaimed. "I mean, think about what this could mean for humanity! Alvin, right now you are the perfect soldier! Think about that!"

I did. The perfect soldier. What did that even mean? That I was faster, stronger, just _better_ on the field of battle than anyone I knew? That's what it sounded like. I was reminded of the Battle of Thermopylae, an ancient battle in Greece in which a few hundred Spartans had fended off thousands of enemies. This must be how they had felt. Perfect. Even though they had all died in the end.

"So what now?" I asked.

The commander coughed – a nervous cough. That made me a little uncomfortable. Were they holding anything back from me?

"Well, Private," said Nielson, "let's just say that there's more going on here than you know. Do you know what ONI is?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering where this was going. "The Office of Naval Intelligence. What do they have to do with this?"

"Well, first off, I work for them," said Nielson. It took me a moment to process that. I was pretty sure that Nielson was a Navy Commander. How could he be working for them?

"I'm sure you're confused, Private, so let me explain. I used to work for ONI's Section III. You have nowhere near the clearance to know why I was transferred to the Navy, but I will say that it had to do with this mission. There are a couple of dozen officers on this mission that are also ex-ONI."

I immediately thought of Sarge. He wasn't an ONI spook, was he? That's what most of us Marines called them – spooks. Section III agents, from what we knew, had top clearance. They were like modern-day G-men. No, Sarge couldn't be one of them. But Nielson was. And he had said earlier that he knew who Sarge was. Maybe Sarge was a spook after all. Huh.

"I'm assuming that I can't tell anyone about this," I said coolly.

"That's right, son," replied Nielson.

"What about you, doctor?" I asked Halsey. "Are you ONI also?"

"No, my boy," the doctor replied, "I'm just a civilian contractor. Hired by ONI."

Eh. Same thing, in my opinion. "So what now?" I asked again. I was anxious to find out what my life was supposed to be like from this point on.

Nielson reached under the table, and I flinched. For a second I thought he was going to take out a gun and shoot me, but he brought out a thin sheet of metal and held it up between his face and mine. "Punch a hole through it," Nielson said.

I reacted as anyone would to a superior – I obeyed. My fist broke through the metal like it was paper. Nielson chuckled and brought out five more sheets of metal, holding them all together. "Do it again," he ordered. And I did.

"How do you feel, Private?" Nielson smirked as he waited for my response. I grinned back.

"Ready for anything, sir."

"Then let's get you some gear. You're going back into the caves."

* * *

><p>By now, I should have learned that the commander always took my answer to that question literally. As I slung the SA-17 around my shoulder for the third time in two days, I couldn't help but grin. Here I was, a superhuman going into the unknown. It was unreal.<p>

Nielson and Halsey said they would be waiting for me at the Buzzard. In the twenty-four hours since I had been bitten, New Edessa had doubled in size. It was bustling with soldiers, miners, and construction workers. It took me a while to find my way there with the crowds of people and the new buildings. But when I arrived, I was greeted not only by the commander and the doctor, but also by Red Team.

"Surprise!" said Rick. "Sorry we don't have any cake, Johnny ate it all."

Johnny belched involuntarily. Victor doubled over in laughter. Dana raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin. "Nicely timed, Johnny," she said. Johnny just nodded, his body shaking with laughter.

Once I stopped laughing, I turned to Nielson. "Sir, what's the plan?" I asked.

"You're going to penetrate deeper into the caves. You need to find the lizards' nest so that we can seal them away from us. Find it and plant this beacon," Nielson said, handing me a small metal object. "Then get the heck out of there before they see you."

"Yes sir," I said. "So is this my mission because I'm some kind of superhero now?"

Nielson grinned. "Just get in the Buzzard, Captain America."

It was an antique reference, but fitting. "I'm a Private First Class," I replied as I stepped into the ship and strapped myself in. "And I'm Canadian."

"But seriously," continued Nielson, leaning close to me. "Be careful. There's more dangerous stuff than lizards down there."

The commander stepped back and waved to us as the hatch closed. I desperately wanted to ask what he meant. _What else is down there?_ I thought. As the Buzzard lifted off the ground and began the short trek to the caves, I knew that Nielson was still hiding something. What was down there?

What kind of mission was this?

* * *

><p><em>Good to be back in business. Tell me what you think.<em>


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